A list of people we've told:
J (end of March)
To. (June)
M, M, & K (June)
T's mom (July)
J (August)
This, now that I think about it, is rather sad. No wonder I still have issues with this whole situation. I haven't managed to tell very many people about it.
But that's the thing with miscarriage in the US: generally, people don't talk about it. It's hidden. It's whispered about. You're encouraged to not tell anyone about your early pregnancy until it's safe, until the 2nd trimester, so you DON'T have to tell anyone about a miscarriage.
And therein lies our mistake.
But I'm glad I told these people, and I want to tell more.
I'm particularly glad I told MMK, even though it pained me when M announced her own pregnancy, because she mentioned others who'd miscarried. And then when M had the same experience a month later, we understood.
I think that we won't tell some people until we're pregnant again, though. I don't know why, but I think that's just how it might be. I think the "why didn't you tell me earlier" we got from T's mom makes me want to wait a while for some people. I think right now I'm just looking for sympathy & support & kind words that acknowledge our pain.
Friday, August 10, 2007
From the beginning
A little bit of background...
T & I want a child. It's taken us ages to figure that out (we've been married now for 8 years, and together for 16), and sometimes I worry that it's too late (but at the age of 34, it's not quite too late yet. So they say.). Last December we managed to conceive in the first cycle we tried; the positive pregnancy test on January 15 was a big big surprise to us. Anticipation, delight, excitement, and more ensued, along with nausea, tenderness, sensitivity to smells, and so on. I scheduled my first OB visits, they went well - physical exam indicated that I was approximately 9 weeks pregnant at the beginning of February, due in the beginning of September. The next appointment, towards the end of February, was for the first ultrasound.
Then things began to go wrong.
Beginning of week 11, I thought it was just spotting. Not a big deal. It didn't occur to me to be concerned until the bleeding continued, got a little heavier & thicker. The day before the appointment for the ultrasound, I called the OB office; the doc on call said she "was comfortable" with me waiting until the next day to come in to check out the situation. So we waited, and didn't worry.
I explained to the ultrasound technician about the bleeding. She mastered a calm, soothing demeanor, and didn't appear concerned (so again, I wasn't in return). She told us we should be able to see the head, body, etc. "Here's your cervix, here's your left ovary, here's your right ovary..." Click & measure each item of my anatomy. Then "here's your uterus" followed by "are you sure about the dates?"
What? Of course I'm sure about the dates. Like I wouldn't keep track of something like the first day of my last period. I'm crazy anal about keeping track of things like that.
So of course this was a signal that something was wrong. The ultrasound showed an obvious yolk sac, a little blur of something, but it was obviously not right. There was no head, there was no body. I remembered I'd read that the yolk sac should have disappeared weeks ago. "I'm going to get Dr. M," she said quietly, and was gone.
So T & I sat, staring at the ultrasound screen.
Eventually, after what seemed ages, Dr. M. showed up &, after clarifying the date of our positive pregnancy test, explained that it had stopped growing about week 5 (week 5, I thought - the pregnancy test was in week 6!), and that I was, in the most likely situation, about to have a miscarriage within the next week. I started crying softly, T looked stunned, the Dr. expressed his apologies and such, and explained what would probably happen, emphasizing how common this situation is (20% of known pregnancies) and that it was not anyone's fault. We made an appointment to return in a week for another ultrasound, left & drove home in silence.
The rest of that day was awful. I cried & cried, T went to work, I cried some more. We held on to each other for ages, trying to understand the situation. I felt like a zombie, half alive. We somehow managed to act cheerful, eat dinner, watch a movie.
That very night, around midnight, February 23/24, I miscarried. It was horrible.
I haven't been the same since. Physically, everything is fine: the miscarriage was complete, the pregnancy hormones are gone. But mentally, emotionally, I've often been a wreck for the past 6 months. How could this happen? Why to us?
Often I can't stand to look at pregnant women or new babies. And of course, right after the miscarriage, I learn of friends who are due the same time I was. It seems like everyone we know is allowed to have successful pregnancies except us. We hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy - we were waiting until we had the ultrasound to make our big announcement - how were we supposed to tell anyone about the pregnancy that was?
Slowly, we've been spreading the word. Slowly, we've been healing. We're learning to talk to each other about it. We're planning for the future. And we haven't lost hope. Not yet.
T & I want a child. It's taken us ages to figure that out (we've been married now for 8 years, and together for 16), and sometimes I worry that it's too late (but at the age of 34, it's not quite too late yet. So they say.). Last December we managed to conceive in the first cycle we tried; the positive pregnancy test on January 15 was a big big surprise to us. Anticipation, delight, excitement, and more ensued, along with nausea, tenderness, sensitivity to smells, and so on. I scheduled my first OB visits, they went well - physical exam indicated that I was approximately 9 weeks pregnant at the beginning of February, due in the beginning of September. The next appointment, towards the end of February, was for the first ultrasound.
Then things began to go wrong.
Beginning of week 11, I thought it was just spotting. Not a big deal. It didn't occur to me to be concerned until the bleeding continued, got a little heavier & thicker. The day before the appointment for the ultrasound, I called the OB office; the doc on call said she "was comfortable" with me waiting until the next day to come in to check out the situation. So we waited, and didn't worry.
I explained to the ultrasound technician about the bleeding. She mastered a calm, soothing demeanor, and didn't appear concerned (so again, I wasn't in return). She told us we should be able to see the head, body, etc. "Here's your cervix, here's your left ovary, here's your right ovary..." Click & measure each item of my anatomy. Then "here's your uterus" followed by "are you sure about the dates?"
What? Of course I'm sure about the dates. Like I wouldn't keep track of something like the first day of my last period. I'm crazy anal about keeping track of things like that.
So of course this was a signal that something was wrong. The ultrasound showed an obvious yolk sac, a little blur of something, but it was obviously not right. There was no head, there was no body. I remembered I'd read that the yolk sac should have disappeared weeks ago. "I'm going to get Dr. M," she said quietly, and was gone.
So T & I sat, staring at the ultrasound screen.
Eventually, after what seemed ages, Dr. M. showed up &, after clarifying the date of our positive pregnancy test, explained that it had stopped growing about week 5 (week 5, I thought - the pregnancy test was in week 6!), and that I was, in the most likely situation, about to have a miscarriage within the next week. I started crying softly, T looked stunned, the Dr. expressed his apologies and such, and explained what would probably happen, emphasizing how common this situation is (20% of known pregnancies) and that it was not anyone's fault. We made an appointment to return in a week for another ultrasound, left & drove home in silence.
The rest of that day was awful. I cried & cried, T went to work, I cried some more. We held on to each other for ages, trying to understand the situation. I felt like a zombie, half alive. We somehow managed to act cheerful, eat dinner, watch a movie.
That very night, around midnight, February 23/24, I miscarried. It was horrible.
I haven't been the same since. Physically, everything is fine: the miscarriage was complete, the pregnancy hormones are gone. But mentally, emotionally, I've often been a wreck for the past 6 months. How could this happen? Why to us?
Often I can't stand to look at pregnant women or new babies. And of course, right after the miscarriage, I learn of friends who are due the same time I was. It seems like everyone we know is allowed to have successful pregnancies except us. We hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy - we were waiting until we had the ultrasound to make our big announcement - how were we supposed to tell anyone about the pregnancy that was?
Slowly, we've been spreading the word. Slowly, we've been healing. We're learning to talk to each other about it. We're planning for the future. And we haven't lost hope. Not yet.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Welcome
Hello, and welcome to Happy Nuance, the blog for me, cranberrygirl.
Sometimes this blog will be happy. Sometimes it will be sad. And mostly it'll just be me.
Sometimes this blog will be happy. Sometimes it will be sad. And mostly it'll just be me.
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